


The Private Lives of Dr. Spencer Reid and Jupiter Jones

by vanillafluffy



Category: Criminal Minds, The Three Investigators | Die drei ??? - Various Authors
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 22:08:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4075561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillafluffy/pseuds/vanillafluffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anthology for "The Private Lives of Dr. Spencer Reid and Jupiter Jones" 'verse. "My" Reid is less techno-phobic than canon Reid, but otherwise pretty similar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Salvage

Salvage

 

All of his life, Jupiter has been surrounded by ever-increasing mountains of Other People's Stuff. When he was younger, it was cool; there were surprises and mysteries at every turn. Now the mystery is where is it all going to GO?

Jupe has an orderly nature, and the chaos his Uncle Titus tolerated drives him to distraction. Working with Hans and Konrad, he organizes categories out of the detritus. Some of it, he sells as scrap metal, the worst of it goes to the landfill...which is against his principles, but lengths of rotting lumber and moldy sheets of drywall aren't going to do anyone any good, and they're taking up space.

With the scrap metal proceeds, Jupe buys several surplus shipping containers from the Port of L.A. and has them installed in the salvage yard. He adds solar panels on the roof so they're lit inside. Now customers don't have to browse in the broiling summer sun, and it protects merchandise that might otherwise be ruined by the elements. An old song may claim it never rains in California, but he only wishes that were true.

Aunt Matilda protests his changes, but relents when she sees them turn a profit. She allows that the lighted trailers, as she calls the containers, are enticing customers to shop longer, and since they aren't adding to the electric bill, well, that's fine. They're selling more of things like books and records, that used to get sun-faded and depreciate. Likewise, furniture has a longer shelf-life: The wooden pieces aren't peeling and warping, and the upholstered pieces aren't fading or getting mildewed in the open air. What really wins her respect for Jupe's "schemes" as she calls his ideas, is the amount of money he makes selling things online. Sometimes, one or two auctions will make more money than the salvage yard does on a busy Saturday.

As with most things in life, Jupe has mixed feelings about the business. Buying trips and auctions are adventures for him; he loves to explore old barns and garages, back rooms and stock rooms and the words "Going Out of Business!" make his heart beat a little faster.

At the same time, he deplores the waste. He hates the desposable culture that surrounds him, plastic HappyMeal toys, shoddy imported electronics, useful things discarded solely because they're no longer the style or color of the moment.

Some of it he can repair or repurpose. An old dresser becomes a kitchen island or a potting bench. Stereo speakers are hollowed out and reincarnated as shadow box displays. Nothing is trash until Jupe says it's trash, and he's very creative about rescuing sad items.

He's finally gotten everything organized to his satisfaction and has some breathing room, when Hans and Konrad break the news: They're leaving to start their own microbrewery. They've been at Jones Salvage Yard for twenty years now, they think the world of Jupe and Mrs. Jones, but they're not kids anymore, and it's time for them to follow their dream.

Now it's just Jupe and his aunt, and Matilda has been slowing down since she was diagnosed with COPD. There are a couple people he trusts as part-time help for the yard, but the buying trips are curtailed, as are activities like volunteering at the Playhouse. There's just day-to-day routine, working in the Yard, making sure Aunt Matilda gets her meds on time, listing items for sale and the occasional on-line course.

He hasn't been in a real relationship since things cooled down with him and Stavros. Rocky Beach doesn't have a surplus of single, gay men, and Jupe is under no illusions; if there were, they'd be looking for svelte hotties who look like underwear models.

Checking one of his regular sites, he sees an announcement that Dr. Spencer Reid of the FBI will be guest-lecturing at UCLA...he recognizes the name from a paper he's read on molecular thermodynamics. He'd love to go hear this guy's talk.

At the last moment, Aunt Matilda needs a breathing treatment, and Jupe ends up staying home. 

He's frustrated and more than a little pissed at the spectacularly bad timing of it all. He makes a few calls, and finds out what hotel Dr. Reid is staying at. Calling on all his persuasiveness, he rings up the agent and invites him to dinner in Rocky Beach.

To his astonishment, Dr. Reid accepts.

***


	2. The Subversive Nature of Paint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jupiter effects his environment.

There's a fine line between prudent thrift and wretched self-denial. Jupe counts himself among the prudent, thank you very much, while Aunt Matilda is sadly in the latter category. 

Take the matter of paint. Jones Salvage Yard never seems to have a paint shortage. A lot of the local contractors bring in their leftovers to trade or just get rid of, since the dump counts it as hazardous watse and has rules about disposal. The hell of it is, 95% of the time, it's white or beige...so every room in the Jones house is, you guessed it---white or beige. Jupe's bedroom is beige. He hates it. It's one of the reasons he moves his things out to the wrecked RV that used to be "Headquarters". It may be 70s mustard-gold throughout, but it's an improvement on beige.

Before his aunt is even buried, Jupe's removed the plethora of little ceramic tchotchkes scattered throughout the house, hauled the ugly plaid sofa and the old blue recliner and beat-up tables out to the yard and brought in some bamboo and rattan pieces he's been saving. It may sound bad to say he's been waiting for this, but he's a grown man, who's deferred to a sick old lady for years. It's time.

Spencer watches him nervously. He's baffled as to how the loss of a loved one translates to this determined activity.

When he returns on his next visit a few months later, the beige has been banished, ditto most of the white. The living room is...orange? Mango, Jupe corrects him. The dining room is pistachio. Jupe's old room is a blue-grey, and the ceiling is...pink? No, coral.

Smiling, Jupe says that he actually went out and bought all the brightly-colored paint he's transformed the Jones bungalow with. He's donated most of the salvage yard surplus to the local Habitat for Humanity. He hasn't been a complete spendthrift, though: he played "Let's Make a Deal" with the local flooring salesman. The guy's a Shriner and he was happy to trade 1200 square feet of linoleum for a working minibike (and two more for parts).

Aunt Matilda may be spinning in her grave, but Jupe feels really at home for the first time since his parents died.

***


	3. Cherry Blossoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The BAU team finds out about Spencer's romance with Jupe.

They've been visiting back and forth for a few months after Aunt Matilda's death. Jupe particularly wanted to see the cherry trees in bloom, so his second visit to DC is in the spring. 

So far, it's the best visit yet: The weather is lovely, Spencer hasn't had to leave on any cases, and here they are on a sunny Saturday morning, strolling hand-in-hand beside the Potomac beneath a canopy of blooms. 

DC is a small town in many ways. They have a close encounter with Deputy Director Strauss. 

The penny doesn't actually drop until Monday afternoon, when she briefs the team on new policy of some point of procedure. Afterward, she casually says something to Reid about his "gentleman friend, Mr. Jones", and there's a ripple effect through the team. 

They've known Spencer was seeing someone from time to time, because Jupe always packs him a deluxe lunch when he's there. They haven't gotten any details out of Reid, and they're quite surprised by Strauss's revelation. 

Five minutes after the meeting is over, JJ, Prentiss and Morgan have all crowded into Garcia's lair, buzzing about Mr. Jones. Garcia, who wasn't in the meeting, but who knows exactly who Mr. Jones is---and was---is almost beside herself.

Morgan's sure Strauss has gotten the details wrong. He really doesn't think Spencer bats for the other team. There's some kind of misunderstanding, what would have given her *that* impression?

Reid stayed behind for a few minutes with an observation about the new policy. Hotch and Rossi are ignoring Strauss's comments. He knows the rest of the team well enough to imagine they're going to react, and since they aren't in the bullpen, he has a reasonably good idea of where to find them.

Coming into Garcia's lair, he explains that he's been corresponding with Jupe for a while, and they visit back and forth when they can. (Nice thing about working for the Federal Government, all those three-day weekends are very useful.) But, he recommends, Garcia might want to *forget* she's ever heard of Baby Fatso, because it's not something she wants to call Jupe to his face.

As to why Strauss may have gotten the impression she did, he remarks on his way out the door, it might be because they were holding hands.

***


	4. A Simple Family Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that the secret is out, the BAU team wants to meet Spencer's mystery man.

JJ, being JJ, decides the best way to find out about Spencer's relationship with Jupiter Jones is to go right to the source and see them together. After running it past Will, she invites Reid to bring Jupe to dinner on Saturday night. Just a simple family dinner, the five of them---and she's curious to see what Henry observes about his favorite profiler's plus-one.

Garcia finds about about the plans, and she tells Emily, who mentions it to Morgan, who has a conversation with Rossi, who comments to Hotch. Before she knows it, her simple two-couples-and-a-kid meal has morphed into a full-scale dinner party. JJ apologizes to Reid, who shrugs and says they'll have to get introductions out of the way sooner or later. Jupiter won't mind.

Fortunately, the team rallies around so she isn't stuck feeding the masses single-handed. The menu is simple: lasagna, and lots of it. Rossi brings a gargantuan antipasto platter. Emily has a substantial salad (and Caesar dressing from a recipe she learned in Rome). Morgan brings fresh Italian bread. Garcia has biscotti. Jupiter, who has a better idea of what's expected for this kind of invitation than his partner, shows up with two bottles of red wine on their behalf.

Dinner goes well. There are multiple lively conversations going on, and Spencer slowly relaxes as Jupiter holds his own. 

Afterward, he helps JJ with the dishes while the rest of the adults migrate to the backyard, where Rossi can light up a cigar. (Henry and Jack are playing in the family room.) Looking out the window, it's clear that Jupe has center stage. He's gesturing, the group is laughing, and JJ comments that he seems to be a great guy.

"He's a people person," Reid says, sounding like the jury is still out on that particular trait.

"Don't worry," JJ responds dryly. "I don't think it's contagious."

When Will comes in for a fresh drink, JJ asks what the laughter was about. Jupiter has just done a send-up of what would've happened if Alfred Hitchcock had directed Pulp Fiction and Quentin Tarrantino had done Psycho. She should've heard dialogue between Hitchcock and Christopher Walken, it was a hoot.

"Sorry I missed it," JJ says.

When the party finally breaks up, the team has accepted Jupiter as part of their extended family, but Henry has the last word: Uncle Spencer is still his favorite.

***


	5. Pinocchio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer, self-image, and the healing power of love.

One of Spencer's earliest memories is of his mother sitting on the edge of his bed, reading to him from a brightly colored book the story of Pinocchio. 

It took root, the idea that one could talk and move and go through a fascimile of life without ever being real. Since he's physically uncoordinated, it's easy to imagine himself as an inexpertly wielded marionette. A good puppeteer would give him sparkling dialogue appropriate to the occasion---any occasion---and he lacks that as well.

His mind is real; it's filled with interesting facts and wonderful literature and the ability to think rationally. Too bad that he's lanky and awkward and can't fit in playing sports with his peers. He can stand up and give a lecture to hundreds of people---public speaking is the number one phobia of the general public, but it doesn't bother Reid a bit...he just wishes he had the same facility when it came to conversations with smaller groups.

He knows he's actually flesh and blood; his own human vulnerability has been brought home to him repeatedly. The sense of unreality, of detachment from others, persists.

Then, Jupiter Jones. Jupe is warm and funny and smart. He never gets that look that Spencer knows so well, the glazed expression of someone drowning in a conversation that's over their head. Jupe usually understands what Spence is talking about, and if he doesn't, he asks for clarification and assimilates it, and the conversation goes on.

If Spencer is Pinocchio, Jupiter is undoubtedly Gepetto. He's happiest when he's tinkering with something, whether it's a vacuum cleaner he's refurbishing at the salvage yard, or replacing the screen on Spencer's dining room window. His big hands manipulate tools with meticulous dexterity.

Little by little, those hands fix Spencer as well. An arm around his shoulders as they're watching TV, the caress of suntan lotion, a tender kiss...he's been starved for such contact without even realizing it. He likes holding hands, enjoys the gentle hugs, discovers his own sexuality with a rush that surprises him.

He worries a little, because it's his nature. He certainly isn't used to hedonism. The Jiminy Cricket of his conscience sounds suspiciously like Jason Gideon. So, you're a late bloomer. At least you've bloomed. Relax. Enjoy it. You're both adults and nobody's getting hurt.

Slowly, Spencer yields to the unfamiliar practice of doing things simply because they feel good. Sitting in the sun with a book instead of on his couch. Trying the sea-salt exfoliant the girl at the health food co-op recommends. Adding his accumulated days off to holiday weekends so he can be with Jupiter...because it's Jupiter who makes him feel real. 

Thanks to Jupe, he inhabits his body below his neck; it's no longer unfamiliar territory. When he comes home after days away, he takes pleasure in the hot meal and backrub that await him. A hug isn't an invasion of his personal space, it's confirmation that he isn't alone. Cuddling in the morning in a room that's no longer a white box with a box spring and mattress is a delight.

The sheets are Egyptian cotton and soothingly soft. The fluffy pillows smell faintly of pine. He's resting on his right side, and Jupe is at his back, close and warm. Jupe's lips graze the nape of his neck, and Spence shivers.

Something is growing...and it isn't his nose.

***


	6. The Laundry Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How his relationship with Jupe has changed Spence's life, even for a simple thing like doing laundry.

It used to be that Spencer didn't do laundry until he had to, usually about the time he was wearing his last pair of clean socks or was living out of his last go-bag. That was Before Jupiter. when the only things in his basement were the washer and dryer and an old kitchen stool with a cracked vinyl seat. He'd carry an armload of laundry down two flights of stairs, banging into things because he could barely see around the mound of ripe clothes and bedding, and he'd jam as much of it as he could into the washer and flee back upstairs to do something else—usually read—until it was time to stuff it into the dryer. 

This was one of the things he didn't like about owning his own place. Spence found himself remembering the 24-hour Laundromat near his old apartment, where he could drop off a mass of nastiness on his way to work and get it back clean and folded or on hangers at the end of the day. His underwear never turned grey, his shirt collars weren't wrinkled, and if he'd happened to have a pen in his pocket, he got it back in a little plastic bag; it didn't explode all over two new shirts and his bed-sheets. Disasters like that almost made the cost of paying someone to take the chore of laundry off his hands worthwhile.

Jupiter is a believer in doing things right. He's given Spence low-key lessons in sorting laundry, treating stains and washing like items together. The laundry area is no longer two machines, a stool and a box of detergent powder. There's a table to pre-treat and fold laundry on, with various cleaning products on a shelf above it. The rolling clothes rack that used to serve as Spence's closet allows him to hang his shirts neatly when they come out of the dryer, and he's even mastered the use of the nearby ironing board. His shirts are crisp, and he's come to take pleasure in the process of ironing and the powdery smell of spray starch. (The grey underwear has been banished; Jupe has gotten him a two-week supply of new briefs, or as he calls them, "tighty whiteys", and so far, at least, they've stayed white.) 

The rest of the basement offers inducements to remain while the clothes are whirling around: There's a well-lit seating area with a couch, a couple soft chairs and an ottoman. They're framing a brightly patterned area rug, anchored by a coffee table. His entertainment choices include the TV Jupe has acquired for him, or one of the books in the little bookshelf that just appeared one evening, as things are wont to do when Jupe is around. The books are Spencer's: During his efforts to categorize Spence's library, Jupe had weeded out duplicate titles and brought them down here. Spence can also, if he's so inclined, get a beverage out of the downstairs fridge that's stocked with bottled water, soft drinks and beer, or he can raid one of the big plastic jars holding single-serving bags of chips or packets of crackers and cookies. It's now a pleasant place to be even if he doesn't have to do laundry.


End file.
